


A Small Measure of Peace

by LordVaako



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Brief reference to Runner and Sateda episodes, Do not post to another site, Gay Sex, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordVaako/pseuds/LordVaako
Summary: I'll be gentle, I tell myself, but firm. I'll smile and show him we're fine without the gifts. He'll understand and things will go back to normal.
Relationships: Carson Beckett/Ronon Dex
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Carson's POV

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is written from Carson's POV. It offers a glimpse of a romantic relationship between Carson and Ronon. The second chapter is written in Ronon's POV and the heat level is Mature. This is a story I wrote years ago for one of those SGA LiveJournal challenges. Do not post to any other site.

I've tried telling Ronon that I only did my job, but the lad won't listen. It's been three weeks since we returned from Sateda and his second tracking device was removed. He had hugged me, back in the puddle jumper, and I’ll admit I wasn't expecting that much emotion from the man who resolutely hid his feelings behind a hard mask of indifference. 

But I never would have guessed Ronon knew so many ways to show his appreciation. 

A week ago, he shouldered through the line in the commissary, roughly shoving scientists and Marines aside like rice paper. He'd grunted at the cook who, a moment later, returned with a tray covering something only Ronon knew. 

I'd heard that part from Rodney since he was one of those unceremoniously tossed out of the way.

“That... that... fucking primitive acts like he's the only hungry man in the galaxy!” Rodney yelled. “Excuse me for wanting to eat, too!”

I had blushed a little then, hoping Rodney thought I was sharing his righteous anger. But while his crimson hue was due to increased agitation, mine was from secretly hoping McKay didn't notice the empty food tray behind me on my desk.

An hour before Rodney's tirade, Ronon had come to my office with the damning evidence. 

“This is for you,” he'd said as he placed the tray almost reverently on my desk. 

“Och, Ronon, what have you here?” I asked.

“Enjoy your dinner, Doc.”

I had inhaled sharply after lifting the aluminum foil. A large, baked almost-potato was split down the center, almost-butter spilling over the sides and almost-chives added a mouth-watering splash of color. The chunk of almost-steak fairly overlapped one side of the plate, and I admit the smell had done funny things to my stomach and mouth. 

“God, lad, where'd you get this beauty?”

“You like it?” 

I had looked at him and, for a brief moment, I saw a vulnerable young man craving approval. Ronon's eyes blazed through me, spheres of greenish-brown that sought acceptance. 

“Aye,” I managed, but my voice was a whisper. “But you didn't have to do this, Ronon. It's too much.”

“Not for you, Doc,” he said.

“Ronon,” my voice was barely audible, “you don't have to keep thanking me for removing the tracking device. I would do it a thousand times over and I wouldn't expect you to thank me each time.”

He'd moved closer to me at some point, but I don't know when. His eyes were so close I could see the blue of my own reflected in them. And, God strike me dead if I'm lying, I swear he breathed in my scent!

“I know,” Ronon said.

So, here I am. Three weeks later, I receive tasty food treats without asking, or a silent volunteer to move packages after the Daedalus drops off supplies from Earth. Ronon never accepts “thank you.” The words aren't enough for him. 

Yet every time he brings me something, or sticks his head in my office and demand I go to my room to sleep, I see that twinkle in his eyes. He needs to do this, to keep me happy, so that he's happy. I believe, and I could be wrong, that Ronon feels most alive when he can give something back to me. I don't really understand it, but now I can't do without it either.

Today, though, I hope to end the constant worship. He's done more for me than anyone ought, and I don't want Ronon to think it's the way things always will go when I save his life. I'll be gentle, I tell myself, but firm. I'll smile and show him we're fine without the gifts. He'll understand and things will go back to normal.

*********

Outside Ronon's room, I'm nervous but resigned to what I must do. My hand dances lightly over the door chime and I wait, fighting the urge to fidget.

“Doc?”

Oh, God take me, he's holding a towel around his waist and looks like a wet kitten.

“I... I didn't mean to interrupt... were you in the shower?” Oh, yes, Sherlock Holmes is turning in his grave, Carson.

“Been running with Sheppard.”

“I can come back later, after you've finished.” Breathe in, breathe out.

He steps back and waves his arm in invitation. One step, two steps, I'm inside his room. He smells like Dove's Body Wash. I have a bottle of the stuff myself. I turn when I hear the door close behind me, and I see Ronon adjust the towel's opening so the split is resting on his thigh.

“I wanted...” my voice sounds so small, “to talk to you. About all the kindness you've shown me.”

He steps closer. No, no, no! I follow a stream of water from one dreadlock as it flows past his shoulder and races past a hardened nipple.

“You want me to stop?” Ronon asks from somewhere in the haze of my mind.

“You don't need to do things for me, lad. I'll always be here to help you.” There, I've said it. Retreat now!

I was staring at the water trail as it slowed its descent over a valley of abs when Ronon's warm hand lifted my chin and forced me to look into his eyes.

“I won't promise I'll stop,” he says as his thumb brushed my lower lip. “I don't think I can.”

“No... don't... stop.” My hands rest on his hips.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” And it really doesn't, I realize. Not now or here. Not ever.

“You want to know why I do it?” he asks.

“Yes, tell me.”

“It brings me peace.”

I blink at this. “Peace?”

“Yeah.”

I've always thought Ronon was complicated, but how could showing me every kindness in the world bring him peace? I know the question is somewhere on my face because he's staring at me as if he's reading me.

“The first time, after seven years, you showed me peace,” he says, his hand caressing my cheek. “No need to run. No fear of dying.”

I know my eyes are closing, but I can't look into his eyes, his honesty laid bare before me.

“The second time,” Ronon continues, “you killed the Wraith who had taken everything from me, and you gave my new life back.”

My eyes flutter open. His body burns my soft hands, but I don't pull them away. Instead, my fingers lightly touch his lower abs, but he pulls away. He smiles a little, a rare flash of perfectly white teeth and wrinkled brow. Ronon's hand slides over the wall, and the door opens.

“When you are ready, I will show you peace,” he says. 

I can only nod as I walk into the too-bright corridor. I don't look back, but I know he's watching me walk away, unsteady but certain that our next meeting will be more than I could hope for.


	2. Ronon's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has power over me. I only admit that to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing the rating to Mature as this sequel certainly turned up the heat!

**_Ronon's POV_ **

When I watch him, always unnoticed, I get glimpses of the man underneath. Everything about him seems to be in plain sight, but I know I see more than the others. They only see Doctor Beckett. The doctor is kind, soft-spoken unless riled, and genuinely able to calm even the most frightened patient.

But I can also see Carson. He's lonely, but he hides it well. He laughs with his whole body and his eyes are always bright and welcoming. Carson's controlled, though. I can see the way he restrains his more primal desires. He wants, but he won't let himself have. It's an intoxicating battle to watch.

He has power over me. I only admit that to myself. I'm the former Runner who kills without mercy. The reputation is well earned, of course, but when I'm around Carson... he reminds me it's not all I am. I'm not a caveman like McKay says. Neither am I a lost soul like Teyla imagines, nor the perfect soldier that Sheppard is looking for.

Carson's laughing again. I feel the deep warmth of it fill my chest, and I place my hand there, holding it in. I can fight Wraith until a Hive ship runs dry, but when he does that – when he laughs, so full and true – I can't keep the sound from touching me.

Of course, I've fought against the growing feelings I have for this man. I love women, and when the time is right, I'll probably find one to make a life with. But, Carson makes me see more than I understand. It's as if layers of myself are removed each time he fusses over me, argues his point, or threatens some punishment for disobedience. He brings me a small measure of peace.

I imagine I have what the Lanteans call a “crush.” That's what Major Lorne named the sighing way most of the women here act around Sheppard. I _don't_ sigh. “Crushes” make them follow Sheppard's every move, hoping for a sly smirk of recognition. Lieutenant Cadman had a crush on Dr. Beckett. She's pursued him for months, and I know they had a relationship. But that ended a while ago.

Cadman has a crush on Lorne now. He doesn't like it.

Carson knows he's special to me. I give him things, but not as many as I once did. It made him nervous, I think. He came to me last month, to my room. He wanted me to stop.

**_***********_ **

“I wanted...” Carson's voice was no more than a whisper, “to talk to you. About all the kindness you've shown me.”

I saw his lips make the words, and he couldn't guess how much his voice warmed me. This was the man who gave me life time and time again. I wanted to show Carson what that meant to me. I believe he saw, or unconsciously understood, that my gifts were only the first gestures of my devotion.

I watched his eyes while he spoke. It was like being washed by cool, blue waves. My skin was alive from it. My nipples hardened and I didn't dare move.

“You don't need to do things for me, lad. I'll always be here to help you.”

He stood so close. I knew his scent as surely as I knew the strange way his voice rolled off his tongue. It has a rhythm that's comforting. I want to touch it as it slips past his lips. My thumb slid over Carson's bottom lip, waiting for more words.

Carson gave in and let his hands rest on my hips. I could see uncertainty on his face. I wanted to close the space between us, but it wasn't the right time. So I opened the door and watched him leave.

**_***********_ **

So I watch him now. I have for a month. Missions come and go. I break Marines and Sheppard asks, “You okay, buddy?”

It's a ritual now. “Yeah,” I shrug.

“You seem tense,” John probes.

“I'm fine.”

I don't believe Sheppard sees it as a lie, but he _is_ running low on Marines.

“Look, it's not my business, but as your friend I figure I'd better say something now,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

“It's Beckett, right?” John asks, his voice low so only I hear him.

I nod.

“Okay, so...” John fidgets a little. “You should just go for it.”

“Go for it?”

“Yeah, you know,” John smiles. “Go with your gut.”

I place the practice sticks on the bench and grab my towel. “Thanks.”

*************

Tonight, I watch unobserved as Carson straightens up the infirmary. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, then walks into his office. He's tired, I guess, from another long day of patching up the Marines I sparred with earlier. I didn't hurt anyone too seriously, but I did enough damage to keep the doctor busy.

Sheppard's words play through my head once more. _Go with your gut_. Yeah, I can do that.

“Doc.”

He stops, and I walk through the door before closing it behind me.

“Och, Mr. Dex, you startled me,” he says.

“Sorry.”

“Is there something you needed, lad?”

I want to say that I need _him_. “Yeah.”

He's waiting for me to say more. I imagine he's confused to see me here, covered in sweat. My shirt is clinging to my chest and back, but I don't care. I take a step toward him.

“Are you injured?” His eyes travel over my body trying to find wounds.

I take another step. “No.”

He looks at my face and I know what he sees in my eyes. Hunger.

“Oh, my God...”

I claim his mouth before he can say more. It's wet and warm, and as my tongue pushes into his, I feel him tremble. I lap at his tongue, teasing it, training it, tasting it. My hands keep his head tilted to one side, taking me deeper until I get what I'm after.

Carson moans.

The deep sound of it sends sparks through my swollen cock. Fuck, I need to touch all of him!

“Don't say no,” I tell him, grasping the back of his neck. Carson doesn't say anything. His lust-filled blue eyes are half-closed and I can see the outline of his hard dick through his pants.

We get to his living quarters before either of us realizes it. When the door opens, I pounce. I crush his body to mine, my hands seem to have a mind of their own. They reach and pull at Carson's clothing as my mouth sucks at his neck causing him to shiver in my arms.

“Jesus... Ronon!” Carson writhes as my hand covers his cock and strokes him long and slow. “I canna last if you keep doing that!”

He's right. My blood is on fire and I breathe deeply to regain some control.

“I need you now.” My words sound far away.

“Aye, love, I want this, too,” Carson whispers. He leans in and just like that, we're kissing again, but this time it's so tender. I feel myself flying.

I've never been inside the doctor's quarters before, but it's easy enough to navigate through the small room. Maybe he's helping me; I can't be certain. When his lips slip from mine it's because Carson's legs have hit the edge of his bed. It only takes a slight push from me to have him lying on his back.

We don't speak for a few minutes. We stare. Carson's a handsome man. His shoulders are broad, his arms muscled, and his stomach... I can't see it. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Do I scare him?

I kick off my boots and grab the sides of my shirt, slowly pulling it over my head. It drops to the floor and I remove my necklaces next. Carson's eyes roam over my chest, an action that causes my breath to catch a little. I want this for him – want him to understand that all I am is already his.

Carson's eyes follow my hands as I undo my gun belt, dropping it next to my shirt. I'm so fucking hard. I know he can see my cock above the waistband of my pants. I shove my pants down to my ankles and step out of them.

I have the strength to rip Carson's clothes off, but I won't. I could easily fuck him into the bed, take my pleasure, spill my seed inside him. But I don't. Instead I stand here, naked in more ways than one.

“You...you have the body of a warrior poet,” Carson finally says. I don't know what he means, but from the look on his face, it's something good.

He sits up and passes his hand over my stomach. I feel the heat burn my skin, the contact making me flinch. Carson strokes each muscle, tracing each sculpted outline as if he's trying to memorize what he feels. I know I shouldn't growl, but it slips through before I can silence it.

“So perfect, Ronon,” he says. “I've always wanted to touch you like this. To feel you, like this. You can't know how long.”

I know, of course, because I longed for it every day. Somehow my legs keep me standing while he moves his hands over my hips and down my thighs.

“You're shaking.”

Am I?

I need, I need, I need! I grab his hands and he looks up at me. There, that flicker in his eyes. He's ready for what I can give him.

I carefully pull Carson up so he's standing in front of me. His clothes melt away and I can't believe how much I want him. My lips find soft places along his neck and he murmurs something I can't make out. Our hands explore each other's erections, and when I finally wrap my hand around his cock, I hear my name fall from his lips.

When I lower us onto his bed, we're already sweating from the strain of our desire.

“Please... Ronon... I canna last long,” his voice quivers.

That first thrust, cocks rubbing together, breaks both of us. For every mad thrust of my hips, Carson matches me. It's raw and primal, slick and hard, real and not enough!

My hand slides between our bodies and I gather as much pre-cum as I can. I lower my finger to his tight opening and press it slowly inside. Carson's body arches violently off the bed, lifting me with him.

“Yes! Fuck yes!” he cries out.

I force myself to take it slow. Just need to concentrate on the movement of my finger in Carson's tight ass. Sweet fuck, if he keeps pushing down, fucking my finger, I won't be able to control this!

“More, love. Give me more,” he says. “I can take it. Want this. Just like this.”

I slide another finger inside, and then another. I find his sweet spot and I'm struggling to keep Carson from throwing me off of him as I stroke his prostate again and again. He's so good. Looks so hot! I'm doing this, making him beg and lose himself to the pleasure.

“I want you in my arse,” Carson says and it sounds like an order. I can follow orders.

“Need something first,” my voice struggles to get the words out.

“Aye, the drawer.”

I follow his gaze to a bedside table. Damn it, I hate moving from him now.

Okay, got the lube. Now to keep my earlier promise to Carson. Just need to slick myself real good. I don't know if he's been fucked by a man before, so I don't want to hurt him. I'm so fucking hard. Just have to hold my cock tight while I make us ready.

Carson moves his legs up so I can enter him. And when the fuck is _that_ not a hot sight? I grab his cock and flick my thumb over and around the swollen head. He's barely holding on, if the sharp hiss from between clenched teeth is any clue.

“Take what's yours, Carson,” I tell him, placing his hand on my dick.

His hand doesn't hesitate as it guides me to his stretched hole. I lean forward, pushing the head of my cock through that tight ring, but this is for him.

FUCK! FUCK! He thrusts himself up taking most of me inside him. Fuck! Don't move. Have to breathe. Okay, okay. Too tight. So fucking good.

“Balls deep,” he growls while he's moving against me. “I want all of you!”

I shove all the way in and we're fucking each other hard and fast. I grip his cock. Keep him with me. Losing it. Need this so much.

“Carson!” I want to climb into him, want to reach all of him. “So hot. So fucking good! Carson!”

“Yes! So full! So good... Ronon!”

I feel tremors rippling through him. His cock in my hand pulses, sprays. He cries out and clenches around me. Fuck, fuck, not going to last. Fuck, so tight, so hot!

“Carson!” I roar out my orgasm.

Rocking slowly, slowly. Feeling him like this. Feeling Carson. Floating, falling. Dreamless. Peaceful. Carson.

“ _Tha gradh agam ort_ ,” he whispers, but I don't understand. I'll ask later.

His arms wrap around me. Somehow I'm lying next to him now. I don't remember moving. But he strokes my hair and my back, and then kisses me softly. I don't want to leave this place.

“Shhh, love.” Such soothing words. I like them.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask.

“Not at all,” he says.

“Good.”

Sleep pulls at me, and I feel Carson shift on the bed. I like this position. Cuddling's nice.

“Ronon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he says, sounding sleeping, too.

“You're welcome.”

THE END

_AN: “Tha gradh agam ort.” means “I love you” in Gaelic._


End file.
